


Glasses

by brickboat



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6719170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickboat/pseuds/brickboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coby wanted to prepare for the future. Helmeppo hated having to fight an opponent with a handicap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> I wish there were more Coby and Helmeppo fics out there. These two don't get enough love.
> 
> Also keep in mind that the fic mostly takes part pre-timeskip.

The two of them trained together every night.

 

Tonight was no different.

 

Helmeppo eyes were locked with Coby's. They were both covered in bumps, bruises, and a few stinging scrapes just deep enough to draw blood. Silence hung in the air, broken only by panting. They were in a standoff. They both waited for the other to make the first move – or at least let his guard down.

 

Helmeppo took the initiative to break it this time. He charged, bamboo swords crossed in an X shape. They swung their swords and traded blows while parrying each other's strikes, keeping up the pace for what felt like hours (though was more likely about ten minutes). It ended with him knocking Coby down flat on his back.

 

Helmeppo held a sword to his throat.

 

Helmeppo won most of their matches these days, but it didn’t sit well with him. He thought it was the best thing ever at first, and he even teased Coby about it a ton; but there was no point in celebrating or rubbing it in when his opponent always fought with a handicap. Shifting his gaze to the right, he eyed the pair of glasses on a nearby bench. They were Coby's. He never wore them during their matches.

 

Helmeppo understood the precaution in the beginning. When they first started training under Garp, the two of them did nothing but flail their swords at each other like little kids with a death wish. There had been so many shots to the face that Coby’s glasses would've been broken and useless by the end of their first week there. There was studying to be done, tests to be passed, and paperwork to be filled out (the latter Coby could keep to himself, thank you very much). Coby wanted to get up in the marines too, but it wouldn't matter how strong he was if he couldn't even _read_.

 

But they'd long since passed needing to worry about that. Helmeppo knew how to avoid Coby's face – he wasn't an idiot (even when it _did_ seem like the guy was doing everything he could to get a face full of bamboo). Helmeppo knew he could be a jerk, sure (hell, he  was _still_ a jerk when he wasn’t talking to a superior officer); but he knew better than to _smash glass_ in Coby's face. That could _blind_ him. His eyebrows furrowed just thinking about it.

 

Coby got back up and dusted himself off. Helmeppo gave a heavy sigh and leaned lazily on the sword he had stuck in the ground.

 

“Just put them on already.”

 

Coby frowned. “No.” Jeez, this kid was stubborn.

 

“You're too easy to beat like this.” Anyone back at Shells Town would’ve been surprised as hell to hear those words come out of _his_ mouth. He, Helmeppo, who used to throw a childish tantrum when whatever opponents he faced _weren’t_ easy to crush in any game they played. That was another thing he could give Coby; the guy never got mad. Frustrated? Sure. Annoyed? Sure. Scared? Sure. But actually _angry_? Nah. It just didn't fit him.

 

Coby huffed and crossed his arms. “You lose _too_ sometimes, you know!”

 

“Only when I'm going easy on you! You can't even hit me half the time!” Only half that statement was true, but Coby would know it over his dead body. Try as he might to deny it, it was plain as day that Coby was getting stronger. He worked twice as hard as most of the other marines on base. And though he would brush it off and whine, Helmeppo knew all those times he skipped training were going to come back and bite him someday. But pondering about the future could wait for the time being. He-

 

A bamboo sword smacked him in the face.

 

Ow.

 

Oh right, the next round had already started.

 

It always did unless one of them called for a timeout (though Helmeppo could count the number of times they actually did that on one hand). They were back to flailing wildly at each other. They were good-enough now that they were able to block most of those swings in spite of that. The blows that got through added new bruises on old, and Helmeppo was glad that bamboo swords didn't leave splinters. There was a little trash talk thrown in there for kicks too (though it was entirely one-sided on Helmeppo's part; Coby never responded to the bait when they fought for whatever reason; lame-o).

 

It didn't take much longer before they were thoroughly exhausted. They lay on their backs a few feet away from each other. They stared straight ahead up at the night sky. The moon was bright, but not completely full. A few wispy clouds drifted by in front of it. Helmeppo could make out a few particularly bright stars, but the lights on base drowned out most of them. A shame really; it was one of the few things he missed about Shells Town (that he could go back and have, at least; he doubted he could ever live in the lap of luxury again unless he went up in the military ranks and/or married a Celestial Dragon – the latter being an option he would’ve seriously considered had he not actually met one). Once the town was sound asleep, the view was great. Too bad he never really appreciated it until now.

 

He scratched his head. Dirt was starting to get in his hair and mix with his sweat. Gross. He’d have to take a shower when they got back to the barracks.

 

It was a pain to washing hair ever since the two of them moved to the base. Back home he’d be able to sleep in for _hours_ and take all the time he wanted getting ready in the morning. Now he had to get up at the crack of dawn and had only a few minutes to wake up, take a shower that had no business being that cold (“saving power,” they said; more like they were a bunch of cheapskates), and toss on his uniform before having to make a mad dash to the morning drills. It was made even worse by the fact that he couldn’t get a haircut without it getting buzzed off – it had already grown a few inches in the months he'd been there. Thankfully his hair naturally styled itself in luscious curls (well, cur _l_ since it was still in a sort of semi-circle); he wouldn't know _what_ to if it didn't. He vaguely wondered what he'd look like with braids. There was an idea.

 

He was hungry too. It sucked that there wasn't a store on base open 24/7; probably to deter late-night munchie runs. But without it he'd have to wait _hours_ to get any sustenance. _Oh the humanity_. Too bad any attempt at hiding snacks in his bunk would end in them being stolen as soon as he left. And tattling on the culprit would just get _him_ reprimanded for bringing food there in the first place. Life was so _unfair_.

 

He never heard Coby complain about their living conditions, come to think of it. Not even to echo Helmeppos probably-semi-famous-by-now diatribes. Probably because he was a cabin boy on some pirate ship before they met. Did pirates even bathe? He really had to wonder considering how bad some of them smelled. The only real thing Coby bothered to take care of beyond basic hygiene – as far as he knew – was his glasses. He even had some kinda cloth with him all the time to get rid of the dirt (and if the number of times he took it out every day was any indication, he really needed it). Though to be fair, Coby's habits were probably closer to the military norm than Helmeppo's were (after all, how many of buzz cut simpletons had the taste to special order their own shampoo and body wash).

 

Helmeppo turned his head to face Coby. He still had to wonder, though…

 

“So, why _won't_ you wear your glasses?”

 

“I don't want you breaking them.” Rude.

 

“Idiot! I _can_ aim you know!” He couldn't resist snapping back.

 

“And that’s not the only reason either.”

 

“Really now.” Coby? About to explain _something personal_ about himself? This was new.

 

“Yeah.” Coby sighed and pushed himself up into hunched over sitting position. “I just want to be able to fight without my glasses.”

 

“Hm?” Helmeppo raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbows. “How come?”

 

“Because it’s too risky for me to not be able to. I’m not sure _what_ I would do if I lost them or they broke in the middle of a fight.” Jeez kid, just say you’d be screwed. It'd be a lot faster.

 

Helmeppo had seen him try to get around a few times without them, with hilarious results (like the time he mistook one of Captain Hina's subordinates for a woman; he hadn't heard the end of _that_ for weeks). He had to wonder if that’s why he was able to keep them the whole time he was on that pirate ship; Helmeppo could only imagine Coby trying to do cabin boy chores without even being able to see anything clearly without pressing his face against it.

 

He snorted. “And lemme guess,” he raised his voice to be particularly high-pitched and nasally, “‘to become as strong as Luffy-san’, right?”

 

“Hey…!” Coby folded his arms and pouted.

 

“Ha! I knew it!” Helmeppo clapped. And then tipped right back on his back. That guy was just too predictable. If there was anything Coby wouldn't shut up about, it was Strawhat Luffy. Helmeppo’d had to hear the story about Strawhat rescuing him from “Iron Mace” Alvida a bajillion times – he could probably recite it _himself_ without any help.

 

“You know I rely on them too much as it is!”

 

“You might as well just wear a blindfold.”

 

“I have bad eyesight, not blindness!”

 

“How many fingers am I holding up.”

 

“Oh _come on_! That's not even how it works!”

 

“Yeah yeah, I know. Do what you want.” Helmeppo waved a dismissive hand. “Just don't walk into any more superior officers, alright?” That was the biggest problem with being with this guy all the time. When you spend most of your time together, people assume you’re part of the problem when he gets in trouble.

 

“That was one time!”

 

“Garp.”

 

“Come on-”

 

“Tashigi.”

 

“Seriously-”

 

“Akainu.”

 

“At least use their proper titles-”

 

“That one frumpy lunch lady who wears, like, 3 hairnets at once.”

 

“She's not even- _Jeez_ , I get it already!” Oh lighten up. Helmeppo was just teasing at that point.

 

Coby got up with a huff. Helmeppo followed suit. It was getting late – they might as well get back to the barracks. They put on their shirts, Coby grabbed his glasses, and they began walking. They shared a room, so it wasn't like there was any point in splitting up. Neither of them felt like talking. Coby was thinking about... whatever Coby normally thinks about. Helmeppo was pondering to himself about their sparring. He had to wonder:

 

What was so great about having a handicap, anyway?

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't been much longer until Coby stopped wearing his glasses altogether. Instead, he chose to keep them set on his forehead over some ugly bandana he found (where he'd gotten it was beyond him; the janitor’s closet, maybe?). Apparently it made things a bit warm (no shit, Sherlock), but it kept his lenses from getting mucked up by sweat and hair grease.

 

He'd gotten at functioning without them, obviously: He didn't walk into walls anymore, and could finally differentiate people without much trouble. It was kind of a feat, all things considered: The two of them were pretty easy to pick out of a crowd (Coby especially; who _else_ had blaring pink hair like that?), but the standard uniforms, buzz cuts, and tan skin from working in the hot sun all made it hard enough to tell everyone else apart if he didn’t know them too well.

 

He was even getting better at adapting to fights without them: the win-loss ratio for their sparring matches was slowly-but-surely approaching 50:50. Though he still had trouble with the finer points of sparring (probably, unsurprisingly, because of how blurry things were coupled with the fact that it was late at night), Coby was getting better at reading his movements. It pissed him off, to say the least.

 

But enough about that! Helmeppo was inside the base's post office. It was a small building situated near the docks, and really unassuming when compared to the base right next to it. He'd made small routine of stopping by between afternoon training and supper; a time he had to himself.

 

Not many people went there this time of day. The only time it was ever really crowded was on Saturday mornings; marines would be pick up letters from loved ones and read them aloud while chatting with others that came for the same reason. He never went then: he had no one to send him anything (not that he wanted it, of course) and he never liked being reminded of his dad (which happened _every time_ someone asked if he had any family).

 

Coby occasionally got a letter from that kid whose mom ran the bar back at Shells Town; he'd usually bring it back to their room and read it aloud. The town had really begun to flourish now that Morgan was gone. Without the reign of terror, more people would come and go, and it became a bustling trading trading port. Helmeppo would always huff and pretend to ignore it (usually by feigning sleep or reading). As _if_ he wanted to know about them, dammit! Who cared if they were doing well and making their own fortunes and actually starting to get noticed and known in the East Blue? He didn't!

 

He didn't care about that town at all. Not one bit.

 

“Oi. Kid. Package came for ya’.” A man's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He was an old geezer who had long since retired from the ranks of the marines, but apparently never found it in himself to leave. And despite his age, he could scare the piss out most lower-ranked officers with a single look (something Helmeppo himself was grateful to never have been on the receiving end of – fingers crossed). He lazily tossed a small box over to Helmeppo from the counter.

 

He caught it and waved. “Thanks, old man!”

 

“Don't mention it.” The geezer grinned. “The hell's in there that's got you visiting every day?”

 

Helmeppo smirked.

 

“Just a little something I've wanted for a long time now.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were _perfect_.

 

Helmeppo marveled at his own ability to choose sunglasses. As expected for someone with such a highbrow taste in fashion. He ordered them straight from the North Blue (which made it no wonder that it took so long for them to get there – even when it was being shipped to the marines; he really wished that someone would come up with a faster way to ship cargo). They even came with a matching hair clip. A nice bonus; it would look _wonderful_ in his hair.

 

His golden locks had gotten pretty long since he stopped cutting it. Normally, men in the marines shaved it: Few wanted to bother with the fuss of taking care of it, and many believed that it could prove to be a disadvantage since an enemy (probably a pirate) could grab a handful and yank. But while that logic _did_ make sense, Helmeppo had never seen or heard of anything like that actually happening (even to the women). And even if it did, he wouldn't be deterred.

 

His hair was just that good.

 

As it grew longer, he got a few chides and jeers about it. Mostly Rapunzel jokes and how if the base had a beauty pageant, he's totally had a shot if he covered his face (har-dee-har. Jackass.) But they stopped after a few weeks as the guys got bored with them. As far as he was concerned, they were all just jealous that _he_ had the balls to actually keep it long, unlike the rest of them.

 

He stepped inside the bathroom and positioned himself in front of the mirror bolted above the sinks. As expected, there was no one else around. Everyone was in the mess hall already eating, and he figured he had a little time left; so he ignored his stomach's protests and got to work. Taking out both the glasses and the hair clip, he put them on. The clip was a real pain in the ass for how small it was. Hairbands were the only thing he had used to put his hair back since it started to get in his way, and this thing just kept slipping off. What a pain.

 

But the result looked great when he finally got just right. He slipped on the glasses and peered over the top. Lookin' _good_. It totally was the best use of his time to look at himself from a bunch of different angles. Front, back, side – you name it. Not to mention all the poses. Oh if only he had a camera. He could _totally_ be a model, fellow officers be damned.

 

He took a passing glance at the clock-

 

Wait.

 

_Shit_! Had he really spent _that_ much time admiring himself? It was about ten to six; he didn't have much time left. He tossed the glasses back in the box and shoved it in his pocket before booking it down to the mess hall at a speed he hoped none of the commanding officers would see, lest they start expecting him to be that fast during training drills.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He managed to get there about 5 minutes before the line closed. The lunch lady scowled as he grabbed a plate. The kitchen staff looked like they had already started cleaning up. Not his problem. It wasn’t like they could turn him away.

 

Ugh. Fish and potatoes. with a few slices of stale bread. again. No booze either. He didn't know why he even entertained the notion of there being any; they rarely had it if it wasn’t a special occasion (aside from the top brass; lucky bastards). Still, it would've been nice for a mini celebration. He grimaced as the food was unceremoniously slopped onto his plate. It looked lukewarm too – no steam or anything. Great. He quietly grumbled to himself before heading out.

 

“Heeey! Helmeppo-saaaaaan!”

 

Coby waved him over, laughing mid-noogie from Lieutenant Davit before wriggling out of his grip. As if they didn't sit at the same table every day. They had made a few friends since they got to Maine HQ (well- Helmeppo, at least; Coby had been everyone's kid brother right from the getgo); and while he definitely preferred his own company, he couldn't deny that there were times he actually _enjoyed_ spending time with these plebs.

 

“Where were you?” Coby scooped up a fork-full of the food left on his plate and shoved it in his mouth. “You almost didn't make it.” For such a polite kid, his table manners sure were a wreck. Elbows on the table and talking with his mouth full. Gross. Helmeppo knew that he'd been stuck on a pirate ship for god-knows-how-long, but _seriously_?

 

Regardless, he grinned from ear to ear. “Package came in the mail. It couldn't wait, ya’ know?”

 

“Hmm?” Coby slowed mid-chew and blinked at him.

 

Helmeppo laughed and gave an unapologetic wave. “I got pair of sunglasses. Cool, huh?”

 

Coby just stared at him.

 

Kinda like he was trying to figure out why Helmeppo even bothered. He wasn't exactly subtle about it. He was a guy that kept his emotions on his sleeve, whether he wanted to or not. But right now there wasn't anything on his face beyond slightly furrowed eyebrows. So that at least meant he was focusing on something, and it wasn't like Helmeppo had anything stuck in his teeth. Sometimes it really seemed like the kid knew more than he let on. Did he really figure it out _that_ easy?

 

“You could just wear the cap, you know.”

 

Nope. It went riiiiiight over his head.

 

“Hey, _you_ don't wear it either!”

 

And so began another one of their near-infamous squabbles. Though he didn’t like it, it was probably the thing they were most well-known for in the base (well, aside from that time Coby accidentally walked into the woman’s changing room, but _that_ was a can of worms he didn't want to reopen). In the fray no one asked him _why_ he got those glasses, or why. It was a small relief, because even Helmeppo knew how petty it was:

 

If Coby could fight at a disadvantage, then so could he.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The glasses were Coby's prescription – not that anyone knew. Though he expected otherwise (given the guy’s weird caginess when it came to personal information), it was surprisingly easy to get that specific tidbit of info. Helmeppo just asked one day and he spilled.

 

“ _Jeez, how bad is it?”_

 

“ _Not_ _ **that**_ _bad.”_

 

“ _Sure it isn't.”_

 

“ _It's true!”_

 

“ _Lemme guess: You could only see the E at the top of that sight chart in the infirmary, right?”_

 

“ _Hey! I can see a few lines down too!”_

 

“ _So what is it, 20/1000?”_

 

“ _No. It's 20/200.”_

 

Case and point: Dear _god_ how could that kid see.

 

If anyone asked, he'd just tell them it's because it's too bright outside. He refused to wear the eye black everyone else did on particularly bad days right from the start – there was no way in _hell_ he was letting that grease anywhere near his face. He didn't care _how_ blinding it got midday as long as it meant he could keep his skin as soft as untainted as he could (and all the dust and dirt was bad enough for his complexion as it was).

 

Without waiting another second, he slipped them on and looked at his reflection straight through the lenses. He quickly realized it was a pointless gesture; he could barely make himself out in it, much less any of the other bathroom fixtures. He curiously tapped the side of one of the lenses as if it would change anything. It didn't. He hadn't realized just _how_ shitty it would make his vision.

 

If the clarity of glass represented a person’s vision, Coby’s was the greasy, opaque windows in the mess hall kitchen that suspiciously looked like they hadn't been cleaned since before Vice Admiral Tsuru joined the marines. He had to wonder how the kid was even able to _function_ , let alone join the marines and actually make his way up the ranks. Helmeppo himself would've given up a long time ago had he been under those circumstances.

 

He was more subtle about getting used to this new handicap than Coby was, and chose to adjust at a more gradual pace. Handicapping oneself on purpose probably wasn't the most efficient way to get better. At most, it could be sort of useful in the event he somehow went blind (which wasn't likely seeing as how the only blind marine he knew about was Vice Admiral Fujitora, and even that guy did it to himself). It was just him being petty. He knew that.

 

Too bad he didn't care.

 

Some days the sun was practically blinding without a hat (he never wore one because of his hair; plus they were ugly), so it wasn’t strange for one of the only guys in the base who went hatless to have _some_ sort of eye protection (and it made for _hilarious_ tan lines too, if everyone’s laughter was any indication). Not having to squint was a nice change of pace in all this, though.

 

He never mentioned the prescription, and beyond a funny glance or two, no one said anything about the slightly awkward gait he gained when he wore them. It was dizzying at first – anyone would feel that way; but he otherwise acted just the same. Had to read? He could flip them up because dirt. Had to identify someone by sight alone? Again, he could flip them up to get a better look. He was playing this on easy mode, but it wasn't like he had an excuse for when he made mistakes; if he tried to blame his sunglasses, whatever officer he told would probably throw them out. And then he'd have to buy new ones. And these things took a sizable chunk out of his paycheck, thank you very much.

 

Obviously he never wore them off duty or outside training. He didn't want to actually fuck up his vision for good. So far so good; his vision was still fine, his training was going great, and he was getting used to his own self-imposed handicap.

 

And Coby was none the wiser.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Another late-night training session.

 

Truth-be-told, they had been having a lot less of those lately. Since their promotions, their training regiments had only gotten tougher. Well- that and the fact they had more assignments with old man Garp. They never actually made an agreement not to spar when they were away from the base, but that was just how it turned out. It made sens: Even though they didn't engage in combat at all on most of those missions, they always had to be ready just in case.

 

He didn't like it, though. Sometimes he just wanted to get his hands dirty.

 

It felt good not to have to hold back against an opponent. They were roughly equal in strength now. They could go all out without having to worry about killing each other. It was a breath of fresh air, to say the least.

 

When he first wore his sunglasses during their spars, Coby asked why he would do that considering how it was _in the middle of the night_. There was no sun to block out, and it's not like he cared if he saw Helmeppo's stupid tan lines (though they were getting closer to the tone of the rest of his face).

 

Helmeppo told him to shut up.

 

Helmeppo had his kukris, while Coby excelled in Soru (which did NOT leave Helmeppo in the dust when it came to raw talent; Helmeppo was just too lazy to work as hard; yeah, that was it, totally). Most people would assume that the person with the weapon would have a distinct advantage, but Coby had a distinct knack for maneuvering around his slashes. Like some kind of weird mammalian octopus – Helmeppo was working off gut instinct for the most part, but he could swear that Coby was making movements that were _way_ more fluid than they had any right to be.

 

Coby used to have a sword of his own too. It was a plain rapier that had seen its own share of battles before he got it. Well- technically it wasn't _really_ his, but Marines generally kept the same weapon until it was broken or they died, so it might as well be. The Marines never liked to waste weapons; a weapon was used until useless. If a marine stopped using a weapon before that, it was given to someone else and that was that.

 

However, he stopped using said sword because 1) he wasn’t able to ‘utilize it to its full potential', and 2) Ensign Tashigi had all but wrung his neck for how sloppy his technique was, and he didn’t want to have to go through another study session from hell on the history and fundamentals on swordsmanship (not that Helmeppo could blame him – Tashigi was freaking _scary_ when she was pissed off).

 

And as hilarious as Helmeppo found it, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy.

 

But enough thinking about the past.

 

They went back and forth. Helmeppo swung, Coby dodged. Coby lunged, Helmeppo blocked. They pretty much never got injured anymore now that they knew what they were doing. And even when they did, they could stop themselves in time to keep it minor: Coby wouldn't break bones by brute force; Helmeppo wouldn't cause any major blood loss. It pushed their reaction times to the limit.

 

Swing the blades together in an X and lunge at Coby – that was the attack Helmeppo was working on (well, the Coby part was optional). It was simple enough, but there was a surprising amount of finesse needed to actually do it correctly. The trick was to time one blade slightly before the other and making sure they didn't collide. Coby was going to jump back, and Helmeppo would do it again at a different angle. It was easy practice if he did say do himself.

 

Wait, why did Coby just lean _forward_? It was so out of the blue that Helmeppo completely forgot to pull back on his momentum.

 

His attack hit head on.

 

**“ _GAAAAAAAAAAAH_!”**

 

Coby let out a blood-curdling scream and stumbled back, clutching his forehead. A chill crawled down Helmeppo's spine. The color drained from his face. He hadn't heard anything like that come from Coby since that one assignment they had back in Lapen. Helmeppo flipped up his sunglasses to get a better look. He needed to better-assess the damage.

 

Oh shit.

 

Blood was gushing from his forehead. Helmeppo couldn't see the wound itself – Coby's hands were already pressing down on it; but it was bad enough that nearly half his face was already red. Dammit, did he hit an artery or something?

 

“Hey... Are you okay?” He approached with caution. It wasn't as if Coby was going to panic and run; Helmeppo just had no idea how to deal with the situation.

 

“Y-yes...” _Liar_. Coby's legs looked ready to give out underneath him.

 

“That was a rhetorical question, dumbass. Come on, we're going to the infirmary.”

 

“This is nothing.”

 

“It sure doesn't look like nothing.”

 

“I can still fight...”

 

“Sure you can. Which is why you have both hands occupied and your eyes aren't even open.”

 

“We're going to have to fight in conditions worse than this someday. It'll be good practice. This'll only take a few minutes to clot.”

 

Helmeppo gave a heavy sigh and massaged the space between his brows.

 

“Look: I don’t _care_ if the rumors say 'Pirate Hunter' could fill a lake with all the blood in his body. _You’re not him_.”

 

Coby gave a frustrated sigh. Helmeppo continued anyway.

 

“Seriously, if won't come with me I'll drag you there myself.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, there was always someone in the infirmary regardless of time of day. There was no where to buy food this late at night, but Helmeppo was glad this place was open. Everyone was supposed to keep whatever they did down to a dull roar at night, but once in awhile they'd have one of those nights where someone would do something stupid (falling from a balcony or out a window due to being inebriated on illicit moonshine was a 'worryingly common occurrence', in particular).

 

This time it was Coby. The irony was not lost on him.

 

Coby had protested the whole way down. It wasn’t like he had a death wish or anything (so he said, multiple times). He “just wanted to finish sparring first”. It was always surprising just how seriously Coby took his training. Especially since he was otherwise almost _overly_ pragmatic. Sheesh, kid, one day off's not gonna kill you.

 

Doctor Fishbonen patched him up quick. Thankfully, Coby was right and the wound looked a lot worse than it actually was. By the time they got there, it had begun to clot, and all he needed was some alcohol, stitches, and gauze around his head to cover it. It'd be about two weeks before he could take said stitches out; and then another month until the scab was gone (assuming everything went as planned; which pretty much never happened in the marines, if he was going to be honest). He was going to need to take tomorrow off, just in case.

 

Coby didn't like that, but laughed it off anyway when the doctor was finished. “You got me good there, Helmeppo-san!” He scratched the back of his head with a sheepish chuckle. If it wasn’t for the bandages, the blood on his shirt, and the fact that they were in the _god damn infirmary_ , you wouldn’t know anything had just happened.

 

“Yeah yeah whatever.” _You’re welcome._ Helmeppo leaned back in his chair. For all of Coby's annoyingly chipper attitude, Helmeppo couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt over it. Normally he'd get miffed and start an argument about how Coby should be grateful or at least say _thank you_ , but he couldn't be bothered. If anything, he was annoyed at the fact that _Coby_ wasn't angry at all. This was a direct result of Helmeppo losing focus and not being able to act accordingly. There was just _something_ about not getting any kind of closure in either direction.

 

But if Coby was going to put hit behind him this easy, Helmeppo was going to do the same thing. People would ask what happened (a face scar wasn't exactly the easiest thing to hide), but things would otherwise go on as normal. Helmeppo would just have to take it as a reminder.

 

He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

 

–

 

They were surrounded.

 

The two of them stood back-to-back, encircled by a ring of pirates. They were pretty far inland when the call to return to the ship resounded around the island. If no one came to get them soon, they would be fighting alone. He knew that the marines wouldn’t leave them there (Admiral Akainu wasn’t the one leading the mission, after all), but it would be a while before anyone bothered to search for them; and even longer before them made it to this area.

 

Coby’s glasses lay shattered by the feet of one of those pirates – one in his peripheral vision. They thought that ‘blinding’ him would make him that much easier to kill. They quickly learned it wouldn't when that the pirate that did it was KO'd on the dirt not even 5 seconds later. The fact that they didn't charge in blindly right after said they thought the two of them together were a credible threat. He and Coby had a few minutes before this standoff would break.

 

No making any sudden movements. This group was a lot tougher than most of the other crews they had fought in the past – being in the New World would do that. He was sure they would be able to win – no doubt about that, but the sheer scale at which they were outnumbered made it likely that at least _one_ of those guys would land a hit. Neither of them were able to plow through mooks like Garp, or even Captain Tashigi.

 

He slowly removed his glasses and nudged Coby with his elbow. He didn't break eye contact with the pirate directly in front of him. He wasn't going to give them the luxury of such an obvious opening.

 

“Oi. Take these.” He kept his voice as low as he could without being inaudible. The pirates had been quiet for what seemed like an eternity. Coby grabbed them in a subtle motion.

 

“Huh?”

 

Coby paused for a moment, probably wondering why the hell he just did that.

 

“Aren't these yours?”

 

“ _Yes_. Now _put them on already,_ ” he hissed. He could already see that the pirates were just about ready to charge.

 

Coby did.

 

“Hey... These are-!”

 

Now wasn't the time for that.

 

“Yeah, I _know_. Now shut up and help me take these guys down!”

**Author's Note:**

> I do wonder where Helmeppo got those glasses. And where Coby got his scar for that matter.
> 
> Sorry if you looked up Lapen before you finished and scratched your head at the fact that it doesn’t exist. It’s actually from another fanfic I have planned!
> 
> Davit doesn't exist either. I just needed a generic marine for that one.


End file.
